


The Mentor

by Peasant



Series: Peasantverse [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: 1880s, 1881, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Violence, M/M, Spoilers: Somnambulist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-05-01
Updated: 2001-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peasant/pseuds/Peasant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Penn meets the newest member of his old family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mentor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zafra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zafra/gifts).



> This was my first ever fan fiction. I started out with a minor character because I thought I would be less liable to make an ass of myself. I’ve never been entirely happy with it, but some people like it apparently. It is presented 'as is' for completeness' sake.

The sweat soaked woman hurried down the street, faltering between running and walking. When the fetid yellow hue of a lonely gas-light gave her the hope of seeing, she cast a hasty glance over her shoulder; in her head she was trying to be calm, but her heart was telling her that there was something there. She wanted to run, propriety only let her scurry; whilst spiders of fear chased up and down her spine.

The fair haired vampire was looking down from a rooftop. He grinned to himself when he saw her look backward. The useless sheep always thought the danger would come from behind! He had been stalking her for an hour now, savouring the sight and smell of her growing terror as the deeper parts of her soul responded to his presence. A primeval dread, buried down, lost beneath the five shallow senses, so that it lay in the terrified pit of every mortal creature. The thing his dark lord of a sire had taught him to wake.

She had reached a junction and was casting about, her nerves unsettling her as to the best way to choose. Quickly home along the alley? Or the long way round, through crowds of people, where she would feel safe?

Whilst she hesitated the vampire jumped, clean and silent, from one rooftop to the next. Only he slipped slightly as he landed, his highly polished boot skidding on a piece of slimy scum on the slate. Unbalanced he flailed out wildly to regain his control and knocked the iron gutter: sending a shower of rust and old paint chips spattering down on to the cobbles.

The woman started, looking around for the noise and, unable to identify the source, she instinctively headed away from it towards the busier streets. The vampire cursed softly in his mind.

And jumped down.

He landed directly in front of her; and whilst she froze in shock he tilted his head cockily to one side, smiled, and let his demon ripple across his face. Before she could scream he swept forward, caught her in his arms and plunged his fangs into her throat. They tore in swiftly, ripping through the soft white flesh, seeking out the blood, so that they almost seemed to hunt of their own accord in his mouth. Unstoppable and relentless. He felt the familiar slight tug, the billow of sharp sweet pain straight up into his skull as the prey tried to struggle beneath him. He held her in his arms, wrapped them around her, squeezing, hugging the breath from her lungs as he sucked the blood from her neck. The scent of her was like oranges in his nostrils; he could feel the tickle of her lace collar against his chin. And all the time the blood, pounding like a steam engine through her veins, pumping and throbbing down his throat and carrying the life with it.

He let her slump back, her dead weight lolling against his shoulder, and he took a deep lifeless breath to clear the stink of mortal from his head, so that nothing but the metallic tang of the blood would remain. Then, very carefully, he fished a silver-plated claw from the depths of his pocket and, fitting it deftly onto one finger, he scratched a small cross on the corpse’s cheek. It glowed faintly crimson on the pale skin, but there was very little blood left to seep out.

* * *

The vampire, who was called Penn, climbed up to the roofs again to make his way back to his lair. His sire had once said that there was no point taking risks with your get away, and that the rooftops were a vampire’s natural element. Roofs or tunnels. Penn made a point of hunting the sewers at least once a month. Not that the London sewers were up to much, they were mostly new and boring; he missed the intricate variety of Rome. One thing you could say about the Italians, they knew how to build interesting catacombs. He wished he and Angelus could have hunted them together. Prowling like the strong swift predators they were, silent in their unspoken bond, side by side through the night.

Penn sighed, and then checked himself. It was a bad human habit that he had never managed to cure himself of, and Angelus would not have approved. But he did miss Angelus.

He let himself into the room through the gable window, closing it carefully behind him to cut out the stench and hum of the city, which even at this time of night, battered at his delicate sensibilities. The room was austere, scrupulously clean. A plain iron bedstead, well away from the window; a leather chair; a small table with a neat stack of books; works of philosophy, the greater poets. All carefully book-marked and mostly annotated in his own small, precise hand. The mind that is to live for eternity must be fed, so Angelus had taught him. By the door was a tray of congealed food. Before morning he must throw it away and leave the scraped plate for the elderly landlady to find. The foolish old cow! She was too stupid to wonder why her lodger never went out during the day, and too deaf to hear him leaving at night.

Not that any mortal could hear him when he moved, nor see him if he chose they should not. Penn smiled to himself at the thought.

The food could wait for now, as it had waited every night for the past five years. The scent was as irrelevant to him as the metal polish and beeswax in the air, as he sank back into the tall leather chair, placed his hands together in a gracefully steepled point and sat in the dark, thinking about his nights work.

The slip annoyed him: it marred the beauty of the pattern. But for that one mistake she would like as not have gone the other way. The shorter lonelier way, back to the home he had trailed her to on the previous five nights. And then he could have stalked her for another twenty minutes at least, maybe more, watching her build her fear all the time; adding to it, unseen in the dark. Even the kill itself had been hurried, anxious that someone would come up the street and interrupt him. If she had only gone the other way she should have been in a perfect spot: a little side court-yard, enclosed and private, overlooked only by warehouses, empty at that time of night. A clean, sweet place filled with the silver shine of moonlight, not the sullen dirty yellow gaslight and the stench of rotting vegetables from somebody’s midden.

He fretted away, unmoving in his body yet frantic in his mind, worrying at the memory of the night and its disappointment. It was not perfect. It was good, but it was not the perfection he sought.

* * *

Two nights later a youth was standing uncertainly outside a large pub, his thin tense face radiating concern as he gazed up and down the street, as if checking to see if he was being watched. A group of lads, shop-boys celebrating Saturday night and the long lie-in to come on Sunday, barged past him boisterously; roaring their drunken approval as, chucked out of one pub they headed into the next. One caught him a glancing blow, shoulder to shoulder, and the slight youngster spun around, so they were face to face. He met the stranger’s eye and grinned mischievously ‘Need a wider street, mate?’ The counter-clerk looked blearily at him, uncertain if this meant trouble or not, then caught the friendly gleam in the other’s eye and extended an unsteady arm of instant good fellowship. ‘Come an ’ave a drink, mate. Hon me. Me name’s ’arry.’

‘Call me Will.’ The youth slipped his arm over his new best friend’s shoulder and steered him into the pub. Having achieved just what he wanted.

Penn, who had been watching the pretty youth carefully from the shadows for some time, slipped in after them and took up an unobtrusive position at a quiet table near the back. The lad was up by the bar: receiving drinks and joining in the babble of talk with ready ease. Once or twice though, Penn’s super-human hearing caught a slight slip in the youngster’s flow of speech. A hesitation on certain words as if he wasn’t quite sure of them for some reason. Penn, who had worked hard to copy his sire’s rolling Irish brogue since the first day he met him, recognised that the boy was putting it on: assuming a mild cockney not his own; and the discovery interested him. He wondered if he could use it somehow. Perhaps mock the boy with it just before he died? Angelus would be pleased with that.

This was probably some rich boy, slumming it on a spree. That would certainly explain why he seemed a little edgy still, glancing round the bar even whilst he cracked jokes. And Penn was keeping a very low profile, he doubted if he could sense him yet. Probably worried that Daddy was going to walk through the door at any moment and haul him off for a dressing down. Penn dabbed carefully at the corner of his mouth with a fine finger. Angelus would have found that priceless, he had never been able to resist a spoilt brat. Penn hadn’t found out why.

The evening was drawing to a close with all the bitter-sweet rancour of a normal Saturday night. The number of ‘the world’s best friends’ by the bar had dwindled a little, as tiredness and the good sense to go home thinned their ranks. The slim youth was still going strong though, knocking them back with the best of them and seemingly not too effected yet. And he had a fine hold on his original conquest, keeping him from leaving with some new bit of amusement every time he seemed tempted to head off.

Penn rather admired the lad. He had never been good with people, even when he was alive. He pulled himself together quickly. What did he care for such things? He was Penn, childe of Angelus, a lone killer of the night.

Eventually the last of the other shop-boys left and only Penn’s boy and his new chum Harry were remaining. The landlord was starting to collect glasses, having just rung the bell for last orders. The pub was emptying down to a final few steady drinkers, as the rowdier element went off to catch the tarts waiting outside the music-hall down the road; before the show ended and they all got taken.

There had been something of a herd exodus, a drove of people moving between Penn and the bar; and when it cleared he looked up to find the youth looking directly at him. The young man’s penetrating blue eyes gazing straight into his own. He moved forward, a slight smile on his lips. Harry was forgotten, possibly passed out, at the bar.

As he came closer Penn realised that he was a little older than he had thought. Slightly built, youthful to be sure, but with a muscular athleticism and a knowing look behind the eyes that belied his features. ‘You been watchin’ me for a long time, mate.’

Penn suddenly wondered, appalled, if he had made a complete mistake. Was this creature in fact a rent-boy: a cheap tart out for a pick-up? Was he really putting on a higher-class accent than his own, not a lower? Penn drew back slightly, disgusted, wondering how he could get away. The creature was actually sitting down opposite him, that cynical mocking look still dancing in his eyes. He stank of beer and… And that was all. Just the beer, which he must have been drinking all night but which didn’t seem to have effected him. Penn looked more closely. And William tilted his head slightly, parted his lips just a little and ran his tongue delicately, slowly, along his teeth. Penn’s eyes widened. He glanced across at the bar, where Harry was still lying, unmoving, head pillowed on arms, motionless. And then back at William. There was a little spot of blood at the corner of the mouth, which the gently questing tongue sought out and lapped up before the head was thrown back in a shout of laughter.

‘What did yer think I was, mate? Yer next meal?’

‘Shhsh.’ Penn glanced about, alarmed. He had always been careful, unobtrusive right up to the last moment. But the landlord was ignoring them, too world-weary to pay attention to a shout in a bar late on a Saturday night.

William was grinning like a Cheshire cat and watching with amusement. He suddenly stuck out his hand. ‘Name’s Will. Who are you?’

‘Penn.’ Penn took the proffered hand, startled. Vampires hardly ever shook hands. The grip was firm, testing, but brief. Penn recovered himself. ‘That is short for Pendragon. It means son of the dragon.’ He hadn’t ever had the chance to tell anybody that. Not since he had first dreamt it up nearly twenty years ago.

‘Does it? Oh.’ Will swivelled back on his stool, leaning against the wall nonchalantly. ‘Penn eh? ’ave I ’eard of yer?’

‘Possibly.’ Penn tried not to show his pleasure. ‘My sire is Angelus. You will have heard of him.’

‘Angelus?’ Penn was suitably pleased to see the young vampire’s change of demeanour. The youngster had clearly not long been turned, but he had had time to hear of Angelus. ‘You’re Angelus’s childe? Is that why you’re in London?’

‘Yes, as it happens. We were supposed to meet up in Italy, but we missed each other somehow. So I came back here to wait for him. Nearby is the place we always stay when we are in London.’ _Always_ was a bit of an exaggeration. Penn had only been in London once before, nearly a hundred years ago when Angelus was still showing him the ropes, and that building no longer even existed. His new place was simply as near as he could find to the old one.

‘Waiting for him?’

‘Yes. It won’t be long now. I can introduce you when he comes, if you like?’

‘No thanks. Some uver time, mate.’ Will was clearly fazed by the mention of the notorious vampire.

Penn decided to show a little patronage. After all you never knew when someone might come in handy. He hunted alone; but Angelus had always taught him to value local knowledge. That was why he always insisted on staying as close as possible to the old haunts. That and the fact that it would enable Angelus to find him.

‘So, Will, do you live in these parts?’

‘What? Nah. A way off. Me an’ me family.’

Penn smiled at the roughness. ‘Your brethren,’ he corrected. ‘Are you a large clan?’

‘No. Jus’ the four of us.’

‘Ah. And you are perhaps the recent addition?’

‘Yeh.’ He abruptly sat up ‘An’ if me sire catches me out here, I’m for it. So I’d better be goin’.’

‘Oh, don’t let me keep you. I think the landlord wishes to close, as it is.’

‘Yeh.’ Will glanced at the man in question, who was turning down the lights and would soon start to try to wake Harry at the bar. ‘I’ll be off. May be see yer about.’

‘Possibly.’ Penn replied. Or possibly not, he thought as the young demon strolled off jauntily. Clearly a member of one of those old fashioned clans, where the younger childer weren’t allowed to feed without their elders’ permission. He would indeed catch it if his sire discovered him. Penn thought back to his own remarkable sire. _He_ had been positively encouraged to feed, to hunt. And not just a quick kill. The careful, drawn-out stalking of first his own family and then the closest repetitions of them that he could find. A perfection of technique and style that he had mastered over the decades.

If only Angelus would come back to see how much he had improved.

It was late now to go looking for another boy, however much he required one for the Great Pattern. He headed out to try and find a quick tramp or prostitute to assuage his hunger; oblivious to the slight commotion behind him as the landlord discovered just whyHarry wasn’t waking up.

* * *

William unobtrusively followed the other vampire home. Noted with interest the mundane way in which he located and took a meal, and then stayed outside in the street whilst Penn climbed back into his room. He waited for a few minutes before he got bored and decided that nothing else was going to happen. He then made his own way, a few streets West, up to a slightly more exclusive area of town, and into a small, discrete, but quietly opulent hotel. The doorman held the door for him with a polite tilt of the hat and the sleepy clerk muttered a courteous ‘Good night, sir,’ as he strolled past. Both of which William ignored.

He made his way up to a large suite of rooms on the first floor. Two vampires looked up as he came in noisily. The older blonde woman was sitting well forward on a padded couch, with the younger one cross-legged at her feet. Darla was braiding Dru’s dark hair, fondly plaiting and brushing while her grandchilde played with a doll. She was stabbing its eyes with a pair of scissors.

Darla smiled sarcastically and shook her head reprovingly at him. ‘So you’ve decided to come home before sun-rise have you?’

‘Well look what minced in with the lark.’

William shot a look across, to where a tall, strong, dark vampire was standing; a black menace in the shadows. He kept quiet as Angelus stepped out into the centre of the room, as vicious and unpredictable as a high crested wild stallion warning a brash young colt off his mares. ‘And who gave you permission to go out at all?’

‘No-one. I was hungry.’

‘Ay well. Maybe you’re supposed to be hungry. You were supposed to be going hunting with me.’

Dru giggled. ‘He’s fed.’ And she put her hand across her face like the child she hadn’t been for a great many years.

‘I can tell he’s fed. I can also tell he didn’t have my permission.’

William braced himself. ‘You said I should watch, learn about how humans behave, think of ways to catch them.’ Though it’s not as if I haven’t been human a bloody sight more recently than you, he thought. What the hell: so he said it out loud as well.

His sire’s love tap, when it came, swiped across the back of his head and sent him sprawling half way across the room.

‘I also said that if you wanted to stay about for more than five minutes you weren’t to go out on your own.’ And with that Angelus subsided onto the bed, to sprawl out on his back like a bear dozing in the sun.

William picked himself up silently but with a face of thunder and went and sat near Dru. Darla rose and started to draw the heavy velvet curtains, preparing for the imminent dawn. She closed them very carefully. Will rubbed surreptitiously at the back of his head, which was stinging, and then felt a soft tickling and discovered that Dru had slipped round behind him and was licking his head, like a mother cat washing her kitten. He smiled at her and she purred at him, licking harder.

Darla came over and brushed her hand along his fine cheek-bone. ‘Darling boy. You shouldn’t do that. We were worried.’ From the tilt of her chin it wasn’t William she was interested in getting a response from.

Sure enough a quizzical brogue came from the bed. ‘Is he going to get all the attention, now?’

Dru stopped licking and looked up. ‘Well come over and join in, Daddy.’ She said with her biggest wide-eyed innocent gaze.

Angelus growled and rolled half over on the bed. ‘And as usual, it’s me that is doing all the work.’

‘Oh, Angelus, but what would we do without you to take care of us?’ Darla asked coyly and she skipped over to the bed and hopped on top of him, straddling his chest. ‘My big, strong, beautiful boy, who’s the only one clever enough to keep us all happy.’ She bent down and whispered something in his ear and then they both turned and looked at the youngsters. A rather two-edged smile was lingering on Angelus’s lips. Darla sat up and held out both her hands. ‘Drusilla, William, come here at once.’

‘Yes grand-mama.’ Dru rose obediently and went to take one of the proffered hands.

Will got up deliberately more slowly, though keeping a cautious eye on Angelus, who growled ‘Come here, boy.’ When his childe wasn’t quick enough for him.

Will took Darla’s other hand. She arched over and pecked them each on the cheek in turn. ‘Darlings, Grandma and Angelus want to be alone. You must go and sleep next-door today, and not disturb us.’

‘Yes grand-mama,’ said Dru sweetly, then she leant down and kissed Angelus goodnight. A long lingering kiss that took some time whilst they each explored the further reaches of the others mouth with their tongues.

Darla and Will just watched. Darla with pride, William still with that slight taste of puzzlement that had been his ever since he became a part of this strange, strange world. He was feeling well fed and sleepy now and vaguely pleased with himself for the first time in weeks. He had listened to what Angelus had told him, then taken it and gone and done it in his own way. And he had killed and fed entirely on his own for only the second or third time. Now he wanted to forget about it and fall asleep in Drusilla’s arms; and think about tomorrow when it came. He got impatient with waiting and let go of Darla’s hand. ‘Night,’ he said, from habit.

‘Good morning William,’ Darla replied, but the other two were too busy to look up before he left the room.

* * *

In the late afternoon a few days later, William was feeling drowsy from the heat of the glowing fire and trying not to fall asleep. He and Angelus had spent half of that afternoon in mock skirmishes, wrestling and sparring amongst the spindly furniture and practising different holds to break a human’s neck. And the other half he had been trying to pretend interest in an extremely heavy book of fourteenth century Latin incantations. He had been hit almost as much during that as during the fighting.

Darla and Dru had taken advantage of the thick fog outside to go shopping. They were looking for a new fur muff for Darla; another doll for Drusilla; and a nice pretty toddler for the boys, if they could find one. The muff was proving problematical.

Now Will and Angelus were sprawled naked on the bed, Angelus quietly tracing the shapes of the rapidly fading bruises on his childe’s back. An inopportune chamber-maid had come in at one point, shrieked, and fled to the sound of their laughter. The maids had been something of a problem when they first arrived, constantly coming in and out when not wanted. But they had killed and eaten a couple behind the coal-shed: so now the hotel was badly short-staffed and merely plagued them with apologetic notes from the manager instead.

‘Sire?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Do you have any other childer? Besides Dru and me?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘No. I just wondered if I had a brother or something.’

Angelus twisted his finger into the base of Will’s spine, making him squirm with sharp pleasure.

‘So you haven’t sired anyone else then?’

‘Peace, childe.’ Angelus slapped him firmly across the rump.

‘Not even ages ago?’

‘I said quiet.’ And Angelus flipped him over and silenced him with his mouth.

Will lay back and let it all happen, which he had learnt was what his sire liked, letting his mind wander.

Had Penn been lying then? He seemed so different from what he would have expected of another childe of Angelus. Dull, lacking in spirit. Crushed. Will didn’t like to think why. Yet there was a familiarity that had spoken out to him from the length of the street away, when he had first become aware of the other vampire waiting in the shadows. Before Penn had ever spotted him.

The style of watching for one thing: from up on an out-house, which was one of Angelus’s favourite techniques. Although Will was discovering for himself that it was better to hunt at ground level, right in among the people; unless he was planning something big.

But there was nothing too uncommon in a vampire on a roof.

There had been other things though. The dress seemed very familiar, even the stance. And when he had spoken there had been that bad imitation of a brogue. None of this was conclusive, but finally, when he had seen the kill, there had been that slight tilt of the head, the playful shake as the demon face came through and the unmistakable grip on the victim. All of which he had so painfully learnt himself under Angelus’s hand.

No, he was sure, Penn was who he said he was: a childe of Angelus. Only for some reason Angelus wanted nothing to do with him, not even to admit his existence.

His sire had finished with him.

The dark vampire rolled away a little and took a cigarette from the silver case on the bedstand. William dutifully lit it for him with the proffered match. If he wanted one himself he was probably going to have to steal it. He was probably also going to get burnt by Angelus’s one in a minute. There were limits to what Will was inclined to put up with for Angelus’s sake, so he slid out from under his sire and started to get dressed. Angelus said nothing, watching lazily.

‘Sire, are we going hunting tonight?’

‘I am. You’re not.’

‘Why?’

‘You can wait here. Have the kiddie Darla said she’d be bringing home.’

‘Can’t I come with you?’

‘No.’ Which probably meant he was going gambling in some high class West End establishment, with an expensive tart to finish off the evening. Angelus had a fad for tarts just then. It probably wouldn’t last long before he got a fancy for eating something else: dockers, or shopgirls, or Gypsies, or circus freaks. Darla said there was always something new that Angelus wanted.

Will wasn’t going to argue. Besides an interest in that sort of establishment was something he had shed as happily as the rest of his old life. The young vampire went and sat cross-legged by the fire and started to munch absent mindedly on the contents of a box of biscuits, which he had stolen a few days ago. There weren’t many left.

‘Are you eating again?’

‘Yeh. What’s it matter?’

‘You’re a vampire, my boy, not a mewling human. Demons don’t eat.’

‘I like it. It’s something to do.’

‘Oh, I can find you things to do.’

Will accepted that it was going to be time to move soon. And move fast.

The door opened. Darla and Dru entered in a cloud of dirty water droplets from the fog and the smothering feminine scents of soap and musk and perfume. They were accompanied by two porters, carrying boxes: and even Angelus was stirred to turn and reach for a robe to throw over himself, when they came in. The hotel was a comfortable place: they wouldn’t want to have to move too soon.

Will saw his opportunity while the door was still open and the room busy with clumsy humans and a vast number of parcels. Angelus never even noticed him leaving. But then he never did.

* * *

Will walked into Penn’s room unannounced, mainly because the landlady claimed to be too arthritic to climb the stairs after she had let him in. Penn shot off the bed and let his demon forth in an instant, then relaxed when he saw whom it was. ‘Did nobody teach you any manners?’

‘Nah.’ Will jumped up onto the table, scattering the books.

‘Can I help you?’

‘Yeh.’

Penn felt a sudden rush of pride that the young vampire had come back to him at all. ‘How?’

‘Dunno. Thought I’d take you up on yer offer. Maybe.’

‘Which offer?’

‘To meet Angelus.’

‘Really? That is a good decision. He, er… he isn’t here yet though.’

‘Thought I’d wait.’

‘Yes. Good. Excellent in fact.’ Penn sat down on the bed. ‘He, er, Angelus is a lone demon. You do understand that? He does not have to do with gangs or any of that nonsense. He could, of course, if he wanted to. He could be a great leader. But he doesn’t. Just in case you were hoping for some sort of employment.’

‘Oh.’ Will looked crestfallen.

‘Your clan were not pleased with your behaviour the other night?’ Penn asked with smug satisfaction. ‘You feel it’s time to look for other opportunities?’

Will just shrugged, and looked out of the window, swinging his feet. He waited a moment. ‘What’s Angelus like?’

‘Angelus.’ Penn closed his eyes and let the name play in his mind. Angelus was tall and strong and dark and graceful. Beautiful. He was clever and cutting, scheming, manipulative, cruel. He knew what he wanted and then he got it, and he made it poetical as he did it. And every inch of Penn’s being knew that he had been taught to be the same. ‘He is a Master Vampire. The most feared vampire there has ever been.’

‘ _Really_? Why, what’s he done?’

‘His deeds are countless.’

‘Go on then. Count a few.’

There was a silence.

‘Well were’d you meet ’im then?’

‘I was sired in the place where my human body had lived.’

‘Which were where?’

Penn looked acutely embarrassed. ‘Margate.’

Will just cocked one eyebrow and left it for a few seconds. ‘Margate? As in beach an’ donkeys an’ poofy geezers in bathin’ costumes?’

‘This was over a hundred years ago. It was a different town then. My family were members of a strict religious sect. I killed them of course, they…’ Penn stopped. The youth seemed to have lost interest, he was playing with the books, rifling through them and displacing the bookmarks. He looked up when the silence became pointed

‘What?’

‘Will you please leave those things alone.’

Will shrugged and jumped off the table. He was bored. He had expected this to be more fun. ‘Lets go hunt.’ He headed for the door.

‘Why are you here William?’

‘Told yer.’

‘Yes, but why do you wish to meet Angelus? Why him?’

Will looked down. His boots were very highly polished. If he had had a reflection he would have been able to see himself in them. Angelus always insisted that William polish all their shoes himself: he had made him kill the hotel boot-black. He had to do all the dirty jobs in fact. If there was blood on the carpet, as there quite often was, then Will had to clean that up too. It was something he hated more than any other aspect of his existence; something that he wanted to one day ram down his sire’s throat and push until it could go no further.

‘I want to be a Master Vampire.’

‘And you think that Angelus could teach you to be one?’

‘Yeh.’ He was saying the first thing that came in to his head. ‘Cos he’s clever an’ can plan an’ stuff, an’ he knows how to get things he wants. I don’ wanna be just any old vampire, see. I wanna be a leader; do things other demons can’t. Do whatever I want, go places, see things, have people, kill slayers, raise armies. Be famous. You know, like…’ He flailed around, he didn’t know the names of any famous demons. ‘Napoleon. I wanna be the Napoleon of vampires.’

Penn looked disapproving. ‘Napoleon was a Frenchman.’

‘So?’

Penn said nothing; and not for the first time Will briefly reflected on the things that survived death. ‘Wellington then. Only he were boring. Anyway, that’s what I want to be.’

‘And Angelus is the only demon who could teach you?’

‘Well…’

Penn held up a sudden hand for silence and leapt noiselessly in one unbelievably swift move to throw back the door. He and his landlady stared at each other in acute embarrassment. The old woman was half bent over, her ear at the level of the keyhole. She straightened up with an air of unperturbed decorum that William silently applauded. ‘I was just bringing you your super, sir.’ She pointed innocently to the tray lying at the foot of the door.

‘Mrs McAlester, we have talked about this,’ Penn hissed furiously. ‘You do not come upstairs. It is…’ he seemed to search his memory, ‘too heavy for you. I come down to fetch it.’

The old woman got out her handkerchief and wiped her brow pointedly. ‘Oh don’t mind me, sir. I thought you and your young friend might want it whilst it was hot, is all.’ She peered round Penn at Will, who smiled at her and gave a little wave. ‘Getting on all right are you, gentlemen? I could bring up some gin if you wanted.’

‘Mrs McAlester, you know that I do not drink We will not be wanting anything, thank you.’

‘Suit yourselves then. I’ll be off down to my knitting.’ She didn’t move though.

‘Good night, Mrs McAlester.’

‘Yes, goodnight then.’ She still wasn’t going.

‘Is there something else?’

‘Well the thing is, sir, it’s about the rent…’ Penn darted through the door onto the narrow landing and tried to shut it behind him. Will’s vampire hearing could clearly pick out the whispered conversation on the other side. Phrases like ‘weeks overdue’ and ‘extra for washing’ came through as he tried not to laugh out loud.

Eventually Penn came back in, balancing the tray, and shut the door rather firmly behind himself. They both waited until the slow thumping of the old woman making her way downstairs had stopped. ‘Right,’ said Penn, putting down the tray with a care not to spill anything. ‘That’s that. She won’t bother us again.’

‘She wern’t botherin’ me.’

Penn looked at his laughing eyes and sneering lips. ‘Can you go now.’

‘Thought we were goin’ huntin’. Thought maybe you could show me some tricks. Jus’ till Angelus gets here.’

Penn hesitated, tempted. Drawn by the youngster’s friendly confidence. Then reality tapped him on the shoulder. ‘I don’t think so William. Not me. I’m not… I’m not very good with other people. So I don’t try. I am a lone killer’

‘Perhaps you should try. I’m easy to get on with, me.’ Will gave his most open, friendly grin. ‘Teach me a few loner things if yer like.’

‘Oh you’re not a lone-wolf, William.’ Penn looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. ‘And you never can be. We demons don’t change.’

Will shrugged ‘I jus wanna ’ave fun.’

Penn sneered ‘And what is your idea of fun?’

‘I dunno. To do what I want, not what someone else tells me, I suppose. Only I gotta learn how to do stuff first.’ He looked quizzically at his elder brother, the mocking game suddenly replaced by genuine curiosity. ‘What you wanna do then?’

Penn looked away. The Pattern, he thought, to complete the Great Pattern of his kills perfectly. What higher purpose could he ever have? With or without Angelus. Only how could he ever achieve that in this stinking, petty, corrupt sprawling hell-hole of a city? How could he ever make Angelus proud of him here? Maybe Angelus would come; and teach him new and better things, but did he really want to learn them any more? He furtively eyed the graceful young demon in front of him. Self-assured, in control, someone others would always warm to and want to follow, want to be with. Everything Penn knew he would never be.

He paused. ‘ “Leave off yearning for something you never can be, and instead chose to be the best at what you are.” ’

‘Is that somethin’ Angelus taught you?’ It didn’t sound like the Angelus whom Will knew.

‘No.’ Penn looked down, embarrassed. ‘My father.’

* * *

William was sitting on a cross-beam under one of the bridges, idly throwing coins into the Thames. The remains of his last meal was joggling and tugging beneath him, caught by its clothes against one of the piers, as the river tried to claim it. Will was skimming the coins, trying to make them bounce along a ripple of moonlight and hit the corpse they had come from. Only the angle was all wrong.

The final gold sovereign sank out of sight as the current at last won its battle and tore the body free, spinning it over and sucking it down in seconds. Will stretched out and let one arm fall down to dangle, pillowing his head on the other. The black silent water swept on endlessly beneath him.

It was a few weeks since the night he had gone to see Penn, but it was the first time since that he had been out on his own. And when he had gone back the other vampire had gone. The neighbour had said something about him having left for a tour of America, but she hadn’t been very certain of the details. She seemed distracted. The old landlady had gone missing too, which was causing concern.

They would be off themselves soon. Angelus had suddenly developed a desire to go to France and hunt an art-critic; so his pet family must up sticks and go with him. Will wasn’t sure if he would like France, but he suspected that it might prove more interesting than his time in London. He might be allowed more freedom there as well. Already Angelus’s interest in him seemed to be waning as his mind moved on to the newer obsession. He still threw out the odd word of advice, but he no longer wanted Will constantly by his side. Dru seemed to have noticed the change as well, noticed and started to come to him instead. As if the dark eyed little witch had only been waiting for Angelus to move on. And Will had discovered that he wanted Dru as much as he had ever wanted anything.

He thought about one of the first things that Angelus had taught him: ‘What you were makes you what you are. What you wanted then you will want for the rest of time.’ He certainly felt as if he would want Dru for ever. But there was one other thing that he wanted, and a thing that he knew now that he could become: because it was already in him and because, whether he was aware of it or not, Angelus was going to teach him. He wanted to be a Master Vampire.

**Author's Note:**

> #### Penn
> 
> Despite the common belief to the contrary, Penn stated that he waited for Angelus in Italy until the _nineteenth_ century; i.e., some time after 1800, not 1900. In other words they didn’t meet for nearly two hundred years. And Dru and Spike wouldn’t have met him in Angelus’s presence at all. Angel did of course make the slightly misleading remark that he hadn’t shown up in Italy because he got held up in Romania. We can assume either that he went to Romania twice or, more likely, that he was being flippant. Certainly Angelus must have abandoned Penn long before he got a soul. ([ Somnambulist](http://www.buffyworld.com/angel/transcripts/011_tran.html))


End file.
